What a Queen
by Night Diviner
Summary: Going undercover as a royal miner, the Doctor discovers a strange liquid which is said to promise "victory" for the dwarf planet of Victonian. With the whole solar system of dwarf planets being at war, this liquid could prove both beneficial and dangerous. The Doctor and Clara decide to investigate, but tragedy comes between them. Clara must take on a new role if it means survival.
1. Prologue

Prologue -

His name was Raymus, and he was only 21. The boy's eyes squinted into the mysterious pool.

"Raymus! Raymus, get over here, boy!" his instructor boomed, a few meters off with a shovel in his sturdy, gloved hands. "We have gems to mine, boy!"

Raymus did not obey, just kept staring into the mesmerising pool. It was blue, and when Raymus dipped his fingertips into it, the liquid felt thick but gritty at the same time. The squinted eyes widened. "Come check this out! I think I've found a different kind of gem!"

The irritated instructor threw his shovel on the ground, the other workers staring over in curiosity. "You five keep working," the brusk man ordered, then made his way over to the boy. "What the hell are you so damn interested in?"

The boy pointed. "This pool. Just look at it!"

The instructor bent over, and dipped his own hand into it, seizing a big clump. An immediate something fell over his gaze. Was it sorrow? Shock? Triumph? He did not say, but something about his instructor's next order, "Come over here, men! Empty your bags! Fill them with this water!" made Raymus grin from ear to ear, and his hands brush together in pride.

Finally, he thought, beaming. _I've made him proud._ At the instructor's harsh glare, Raymus quit smilng, and ducked his head. The instructor continued to bark. "Don't touch it, men, and women! Careful!"

Raymus suddenly went alert. "Don't touch it? Why?"

The instructor's eyes fell over Raymus's hands. "I see it's too late for you."

Tears welled up within Raymus, an impending sense of dread stirring in the pit of his belly. "What? I-I...did I do something wrong?"

"No. Raymus." The instructor smiled, tears filling in his own eyes as he patted the boy's shoulders. The 21-year-old was confused...bewildered...what was happening? "Raymus, don't you worry. You are perfect, you are, and I mean that."

"Your majesty?" The Boy's hands started to tingle, then sting, then burn. His eyes shot to his own hands, and in horror, he gasped. "They're steaming! Melting away!"

Everyone stared straight at the young man with the boiling hands, their stares matching - fear. "Thank you for having a worthy trial!" the instructor congratulated, smiling. "Sad that you're dying, but hey! You're going down in history!"

"AS WHAT!?"

The others were panicked. "It's eating away at his arms!" "Somebody throw water on him!" "I think it's too late for that!" "But he's just a boy!" The chaos only made the experience more terrifying, more hellish, and the instructor's answer to Raymus's final question did not ease the pain.

"The first test...to victory!"

"BUT YOUR MAJESTY!" And that was all.

His name was Raymus, and he was only 21. The instructor didn't care, but someone did. The man could feel someone watching him intently, an inquisitive stare.


	2. Chapter 1 - Questions and Answers

When I first told her what I'd discovered on the planet Victonian, I thought she'd just smile and...dismiss it. But no, things always have to work in the opposite direction I want them to. Clara became intrigued. "Let's go!"

"Go?" I echoed in disbelief, trying not to notice that my hand was impatiently resting on the handbreak.

"Come on," she urged, half-circling the console to reach me. "You and I have had nothing to do lately. It's just been a fifth trip to Vegas and a Hawaiian imitation planet. Relaxing at best, but," at this moment she folded her arms and leaned forward, her eyes barely peeking into mine due to our extreme height difference. "We want more, now don't we?"

A smile couldn't help but shimmy its way to the corners of my mouth. Her pleading eyes were always undeniable, in fact anything her eyes were doing was hard to cope with. _That's_ what's always made her "the" impossible girl. "Fine," I felt pressured into playing it cool, and reached into a coat pocket, pulling out two shining tickets. "There's a ball on tonight. Thought you might be interested, and it's the perfect occasion to casually check in on the 'up-and-up.'"

An arm shot up and snatched one of the tickets out of my hand. I drew my arm back and smirked as she took a few steps away, those massive impossible eyes boring into the slip of paper. "Dress your best," she read aloud, which made one of my eyebrows lift.

"Well, of course. I can't let you go in there wearing that...that..." What did humans call what she was wearing? "...errr..."

"Tunic," she answered, looking down herself. "I guess you're right." She set her ticket on the dash, which summoned me to collect it, just in case it got lost. Couldn't have her going this alone, could I? "Got any gowns in the TARDIS wardrobe?"

I nodded vigorously, probably with a bit of twinkle and a lift of the ticket filled arm, extending towards the general direction of the TARDIS room in question. "Everything from Cleopatra to Queen Elizabeth the Twelfth."

Clara giggled, then whipped around, hair flicking excitedly behind her, heels clicking as she trotted away. "Nice suit, by the way," she commented AT LAST. It was my old velvet blue coat with the red trim. I probably hadn't worn it since the first days of Sarah Jane Smith on board the TARDIS. Those were times which pulled me into a wistful state...for the briefest of moments before launching my ship into space.

I think she and I both took a deep breath at the size and...expense of the ballroom when the guards pulled apart the 10 ft doors for our entry. We just stood there, staring into it like idiots, er, children in a toyshop. (Clara's been trying to get me out of the habit of saying "the i-word," by getting me to say what I mean. Except she's somehow fine when I call myself an idiot. She says there is no replacement when it's directed at me.)

Clara broke the silence first. "Didn't look nearly that big outside." She turned her head to gather my attention, and I gave it to her. "It's not...?"

I knew what she was getting at, and I couldn't help but grin just a little. Her bewilderment always amused me. "No."

"Then how -"

"It's a Perspective Shift chamber."

"A Perspective what chamber?"

Clara Oswald. You do amaze me. "Shift. We're probably in a room that's got roughly 20 by 20 dimensions, but it's no ordinary room. Makes you think you're in a thousand by thousand foot room."

She took a careful step forward, then another, her arms out like a penguin's wings. "What happens if I bump into something?"

I joined her, just as penguin-like (some kid thought it would be funny to shout at me during an important chase, and that's how I learned my gait matched that of a penguin's...embarrassing), but not nearly as cautiously...because there was nothing to be cautious about. "You won't." Her eyes read curiosity. I guessed I had to explain even more. "Right now you're taking baby steps, but you don't know it because your perspective shifts when you step into the room." Perhaps next companion around I'll have a knowledge insertion ray so I won't be asked nearly as many questions. Though, honestly, that's what makes having a companion fun - proving you know everything.

Clara let out a chuckle, and took quicker steps forward, even taking a moment to slowly turn around. The questions had ceased, though I am wrong about a few things. It was simply Inquirer's break-time. "So, what is this ball for?"

I couldn't be mad or irritated. It was just flat boring, but an idea passed through my head. I advanced towards her, and she cocked her head, more questions. But in an instant, those questions were answered, because her eyes glittered, mine probably twinkled, and we both smiled. My hand was rested around her waist. Instinctively, the two of us rocked and swayed in a slow, counterclockwise motion. Now I could answer her question. "Cinderella."

"What, like a sort of marriage proposal type thing based off nothing except beauty?"

The way her brunette hair was tied up, like a french braided bun, yet a longer piece draping down, pretending to be a tassel. Her face was all colored in, but it looked natural enough to suit my liking. The deep violet dress she donned seemed to make her look taller, for some reason, and her matching gloves made her fingers look daintier. If my smile had room, it would have widened. "Makes you wonder, what is beauty?" At this point, I took the opportunity to dip her backwards. Panic clouded her eyes at the sudden movement, and I immediately scooped her back up on her feet, unhooking my arms from around her and placing them behind my back, one hand a sheath for the other. "Sorry."

"No," Clara dismissed, those controlling eyes scanning over me. "You're fine. You're really fine! Where'd you learn to dance like that?"

"Well, we've never really danced together before. Suppose I've always been quite the dancer?" It was more of a question itself rather than an answer, but Clara hadn't caught it. Pity, but nevermind.

Instead, her eyes began to scan elsewhere, at all the other people. There was a crowd, too? I noticed that Clara's cheeks were going flush, and I got confused all of a sudden. "I don't understand. Why're you red? There's no sun in here." Just to double-check, I cast my eyes upward, searching all the chandeliers. Definitely no threat, so back at Clara. "Why're you all red?"

She looked back at me, her voice hushed and her head close. "I don't think we were supposed to be dancing."

Now I saw. Everyone was seated at tall glass tables, each a 2-, maybe 3-seater. The tables, even the empty ones, all had a single dish on top of them, with a morsel of food. Martini glasses were there, too, the ones with occupants filled with aqua-colored margarita. "Oh," was all I could say at this observation. Seriously? I can measure the air frequency with a piece of hair, but I can't even spot the current event with my own eyes?

"Seriously?" came Clara's response. I could tell she was making the same judgement I'd just made. She rolled her eyes and grabbed for my hand. "Come on." We made for an empty glass table near a large window, feeling the stares of the other guests around us. Yet there was one stare that stood out to me before all the others. I turned my head over my right shoulder to lock gazes with the ruler himself...literally named "the Ruler." He was the one with all the answers to my questions, the number one being,

What do you want the New Liquid for that's so important a boy has to die to prove its power?


	3. Chapter 2 - Nick and Nora

Chapter 2- Nick & Nora

"What's this? Is it CATfood?" He took a silvery gold 3-pronged fork and prodded at the pre-served orderve. I couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"You know what it is. It's an orderve," I tried. Sometimes I wonder if the Doctor pretends to forget how human normalities work so that he can insult them...of course, this planet isn't human. Nonetheless, orderves are human treats...or...are they? I won't even start, or then we're off from one mystery to the next! "Not very tasty, well, at least in my opinion."

He eventually set the fork-thingy down, and folded his hands together, inspecting the morsel. "Still don't get it."

Another chuckle from me. Blimey, how often was I going to keep doing this? I'd made myself look like a completely lovesick lunatic and we'd barely been there for 5 minutes! 'Course, it wasn't all me. Mr. Jagger over there did pull a big move, though that probably wasn't the best reference for me to make, come to think of it. "So, this liquid. Any ideas as to what it is?" Just keep the conversation going, and on more important matters. "He did say first test to victory, as you relayed it."

The Doctor shifted, fixing his gaze on me. "Victonian is the fifth planet in its solar system."

Odd way to answer my question, but it still had to be an answer. "Okay, I'm assuming that means something." I got closer, just in case this was a sensitive topic.

"This solar system is in the middle of a war."

That was more like it, but, "It doesn't look it." I flitted my eyebrows at the tall glass window, hinting at the quaint little towns beyond, beneath the star-filled sky. This was a dwarf planet, meaning atmosphere was low, which meant it could be day time right now. Light or dark, the vicinity didn't appear war-torn.

His hands spread out midair as a display. "Shift!" he said, before dropping them back down onto the table.

Ah. The chamber. I was getting it now, and...it was startling. "Okay. So it's not just on the palace."

"And why do you think that is?" the Doctor tested.

"Bee,caauuse...they don't want to look weak?" Now I shifted in my seat, eyes fused on him as he took his turn to explain.

"Correction - they do. A quaint little village on top a small planet. Who would want to attack?"

"Everyone."

The two of us simultaneously glanced down at the orderve, saying it together. "Catfood." The Doctor finished off the thought, "Who would want it? Who would even taste it, because of what it looks like? Again, everyone, because it's meant to be perceived as people food. But when you do taste it," he stuck the fork in, and took a chunk out. He popped it in his mouth and immediately grimmaced. "You get something foul, a brutal attack." As if summoned, a man suddenly appeared at the table. "Thank you," the Doctor obliged, much to my tilt-head confusion...until I saw him reach into the man's front pocket and pull out a handkerchief, spitting out the fancy treat...then PLACING IT BACK IN THE MAN'S POCKET!

"Doctor!" I tried to scold, but was cut off before I could begin a lecture.

"Quite alright, ma'am," the man, a drink-server by the tray, chuckled. "Not the first time I've been 'spit' on."

I ignored him, continuing a scolding of some sort. Too late for that lecture, but I knew I could still get somewhere. "Say you're sorry," I ordered, giving him my most intense stare.

The big bad time lord could be compared to a naughty boy, his gaze wavering from me to the waiter, head ducked. I folded my arms crossly, which was enough to make him get a move on. "Apologies."

"That's better," I commended, unfolding my arms. Sometimes it was like raising a child, but more or less progress.

The serving man took a large vase-looking pitcher from his tray, and dipped the lip over the martini glasses. As soon as mine was done, I lifted it, giving the server a grateful nod. He dipped his head in return and walked away, so I set my drink back down, 1. because I wasn't really thirsty, and 2. because I wanted to keep discussing the crisis at stake. I turned my head to the Doctor, who was already gulping his drink down. "Had to get that awful taste out of my mouth before I commit suicide," was his defense.

"Social graces aside, let's get back on topic. The solar system being at war - what's that got to do with the New Liquid? Is it like some kind of weapon thingy?"

"There's one theory."

This did not reassure me. In fact, the liquid seemed even more dangerous and foreboding than when the Doctor had first described it to me. Sure, a boy had been melted down to nothing, and it was very sad, but what if he was only the first casualty upon thousands more?


	4. Chapter 3 - The Color Blue

AN:

There may be errors in this. For example, you might see words between "[i]" and "[/i]". This indicates thought, or a brief shift in POV. It's bothersome, I know, but I am working on it ;)

* * *

Glass breaking sounded up ahead, and someone let out a shrill scream. My attention was at the front of the room in an instant, the Doctor with me all the way. "What's happening? Can you see?" I asked frantically, hopping out of my chair and crossing over to the Doctor's.

"Someone's fallen," he answered, hopping out of his own. "Come on!"

I followed him through the crowds of people, thickening as every second brought about a new curiosity. The Doctor and I weren't just curious. We actually wanted to get to the bottom of things. For some reason, my heart pounded, and I couldn't tell if it was because of doom or excitement that something was actually happening.

Finally, we arrived at the body of a young woman, eyes glazed over and fixed on the ceiling, a broken martini glass smashed on the floor. The Doctor bent down, checking her over, but I think everyone in the room guessed what the verdict was, but I was the one who asked it. "Poisoned?"

"'Fraid so."

"She looks so young..." A thought came to mind. "Could she be linked with Raymous?" Suddenly, another scream sounded, more of a shriek than anything, yet it still made my heart jump.

The Doctor stood up, eyes fixed on the area. "I don't know, but I have a feeling I know of one death she could have a link to." Once again, we were bounding off, this time a puzzled audience curiously watching us.

This time it was a man, maybe nearing his 40's, or already there. "Okay, so it's not just youth," I deduced aloud, continuing to make further observations. My eyes fell to the man's hands. No broken glass. "Was he even poisoned?" I asked expectantly.

"Look again."

I gave the Doctor a puzzled look, then placed it on the dead man's face. A crimson substance began to drip from a corner of his mouth - blood. "Okay." I tried to take it in, my head bobbing as I did so. "Poisoned. So? What can we do to stop this?"

The Doctor stood up from his knelt position, eye level with the martini glasses upon the table beside him. His mouth opened just so slightly, to take in a short gasp of air. This was my signal to stand, a sense of dread tugging at my heart so that it pumped a little faster. It didn't help that he refrained from answering me. "Doctor, have we just witnessed a planned murder?"

But he left my side, right then and there, weaving off into disappearance. After a moment of impatient searching, I found him up on an elevated platform near the front of the ballroom. "Attention, ladies and gentlemen! There has been a murder! Two, actually. Someone's on a roll tonight."

"Do you know what's caused it?" someone called out, desparation clear.

There was another sickening thud to the floor, but by now it was just old news met with a few whispers. I looked to the Doctor like everyone else - for answers. He did look completely in control of the situation, and perhaps he knew something I didn't. In fact, I was sure of it. "Three. And I'm guessing counting?" He snapped his fingers at a short older gentleman, wearing a wig. "You! You look like the stereotypical Paige. Who all came here and in what order?"

The little man blinked, taken aback by this stranger's abrupt behavior, but began reading off a scroll anyway. "Miss Destiny Weaver. Sir Charles Dougan. Lady Melanie Laviathian. Miss -"

The Doctor held up a hand. "Stop right there. Is that all who appear to be dead?"

The real Paige looked over the people, then turned his attention back to the Doctor. "Yes."

"And it's my assumption that each were told to sit and take a drink?"

"That is correct."

Right there, everything inside me was slowing to a halt. Things were fitting together, and it was worse than I thought.

"And it is true that the drinks are blue? Much like the, 'New Liquid' your king was presented with very recently? I mean, a different shade, yes, but still a distinctive shade of azure."

The New Liquid! Surely not! "Doctor, you are not saying that..."

He traveled down the platform to a spot where he could give me direct eye contact. "You were the one who said 'planned murder.'"  
Planned murder. For everyone...everyone who drank the drink. No.

He placed a pondering finger on his chin, and circled once before commencing to everyone in the room. "The drinks are poisonous!"


	5. 4 - The Expected about the Unexpected

AN:

Warning, and SPOILER! SPOILER! Character Death!

* * *

Chatter of all sorts spiraled around me.

"They're poisonous!?"

"I only had a sip! Will I die?"

"What new liquid?"

I could hardly keep up, and I could hardly even say, "Doctor," though I managed it through barred teeth.

He only addressed the others, his gaze abandoning my heart, leaving it to shatter. [I] No. Not again. Not this situation again. [/i] "When would you say they each took a sip?" He pointed a finger around wear Destiny lay. "Weaver party?"

There was only silence, grief-filled. However, my mind fought a loud war for counterarguments against the thing I dreaded most.

"Well? I mean, if you're not going to talk, I might as well just leave."

"20 minutes," someone answered.

"And the Dougans?"

"About 20. Maybe less."

Okay! There was a chance for me. Yes, there we go. Perhaps the drinks were bad 20 minutes before. That had to be it!

"Laviathians?"

"...ten. Minutes, that is."

Still a good chance - I just had to think harder. Oh! Yes! Hang on a minute! Genius! It was my turn to take the floor. "So how come you lot aren't dead? The, er, parties? Surely you arrived when your...hosts did." I turned my head to look back up at the Doctor, searching for some sign of approval. He did not grant my wish, just focused grimly on our audience.

Then, the façade disappeared. People faded away, deleted like holograms.

"Artificial Intelligence Holograms. Those bodies belong to the miners on my team. Only 4 people, including me. And there's only me, now." His breaths seemed to come heavier, and mine matched. It was just us, the Doctor and I, alone in the vast ballroom. Not nearly as pleasant as it sounds, because in moments, it might just be one of us standing here.

I shook my head. "You can't do this."

[I]Doctor: And that's when I felt it, the first sign of death. It was like a sharp kick in my left side. My hand moved to the area as I winced and drew myself backward. "The kidneys!"[/i]

My heart lurched as I saw him draw back, an obvious war going on inside him, physically and emotionally. An instinct inside me kicked in, and I raced for the stairwell leading up to the platform. I kept a safe distance, enough to be there should he need me. This next idea of mine...it was not one I wanted to come to, but it could prevent a much more horrible fate. "Plan C. Regenerate."

He stared across at me from where he stood at the platform's handrail, or rather leaned, for several long moments. My eyes seemed to twitch, as if they were having some unheard conversation of their own. "I can't," his voice translated for me, perhaps for him, too. "You know I can't."

And there it was, coming back to hit us. I'd always wondered. Back on Trenzalore, 3 years ago now, the Doctor was granted more Regeneration energy by the Time Lords, by some miracle or another. We'd never known just how much energy he'd gotten, and would sometimes, especially since our encounters underwater in the 2119, discuss this issue. Could have been a whole cycle, an eternity of lives, or that his Twelfth/Thirteenth/Fourteenth face, his current one, would be the last he'd ever get. "Doctor, neither of us knew, not for sure."

His tone suddenly went defiant, and harsh. "Clara, whatever Regeneration energy I [i]had[/I] was stolen when I..." Strained voice. "...on Skaro - agh!" His eyes squeezed tight, and he instantly turned away from me, whether out of pain or that he just didn't want me to...to see it.

I wouldn't hide my eyes, which were now welling with large, wet tears. It was all coming out right about then, the terrible sense of defeat after a long period of denial. I grasped his left hand, which had gone pale from the clenching of the handrail, and I came to a decision. There would only be one way to continue. "Then I'm dying too." I could feel his eyes widen, but it didn't mean anything to me, not right then, not for a second. "Fair enough, don't you think? We both get what we want. You won't have to see me die, and I won't have long a grief period."

I could almost feel the raging fire flicking within those ice cold eyes, as he whipped back around to face me, a strange, new strength overcoming him. This reaction jerked me back, my hand snatching back from his in surprise. "Clara, that is the last thing I'd want! You dying? It would mean I lost, I was defeated, and more importantly, betrayed. The Time Lord Failure! And yes, this time, it WOULD make a difference, because it's YOUR LIFE!"

That tone in his voice, like that first thunderclap signaling that the oncoming storm...was there. Never had I felt so hurt, but the truth is rarely so generous. I would have bawled some more, make myself look even more idiotic, probably scream, had he not lost his balance right there. Yet in an instant, we both blinked a couple of times, and the storm immediately subsided, a certain form of...peace, I guess, falling over us, as we found each other staring into each other's eyes. My arm was around his waist; I had broken his fall just in time.

All was calm after that.

"Congratulations," he complimented softly...weakly. "You'll make a dancer yet." The Doctor fighting off things the best he could, even if his attempts failed - comic relief.

My final chuckle. I lowered him to the floor, kneeling down beside him. Acceptance seemed to pass over me. Questions started to buzz in my mind again, but only one was important, if this really was the end, if I'd ever come to accept it. "What do you want me to do?"

His strength returned for a brief moment as he delivered his final message. "Go to the King. Find out why. Why the liquid is so important, why he's poisoning everyone on the mining team, and anything else you might be wondering." He winced as he turned back away. "I trust you to ask...all the right questions."

I put a hand on his shoulder, trying to tug him back, to show him that it was okay for him to show his face.

But that was it. The end.

* * *

AN:

It's not the end of the story, but the end of Twelve's POVs. So sorry if that upsets anyone. However, just because Twelve isn't in the picture now, Whouffaldi isn't dead for this fan fiction. It just centers around the angst Clara feels.

This was a really tough chapter to write, because my grandpa recently passed away. Writing death is always hard, but it's 1000 times harder when you've personally lost someone. Rip, Grandpa /3


	6. 5 - Controlling the Clichés

A few more tears dripped down my cheeks as the Doctor's last breath escaped him. My head suddenly ached with an immense flow of grief, not just for him, but for everyone I'd lost. Danny. My mum. Even Weaver, Dougan, and Laviathian, because I wondered if they were anything to someone as the Doctor was to me. No. Is to me.

I sucked it all in, all the grief and the shock, and I stored it in the back of my mind, where it could come out any time if I so let it...just not right then and there. The only thing that mattered to me was to carry out the Doctor's final wish. After that, perhaps I'd get in the TARDIS, have her take me home, where I might carry out my wish.

I stood up, brushed my dress off, for no reason other than to gain some sort of composure.

As I lifted my head, having taken one final look at the Doctor in his sharp suit, I noticed the room had transformed completely. It wasn't nearly as spacious, or beautiful. In fact, two feet in front of me, there was wall composed of dusty brick slabs. Looking up, I found that the ceiling was only a foot above me. Looking down, I found no Doctor...just a dust floor. "Where am I?" I asked aloud in a shaky, traumatized voice. I did not want to sound like that.

"You wanted to see the King, did you not?" a voice sounded somewhere behind me. Startled, I whipped around, and before I spotted the man, I noticed the bars. They were thick, and black, with grime sluggishly sliding down their frames.

"A little cliché of a dungeon," was all I said in response to the man's inquiry. He looked well-groomed, tall and toned. His hair was jet black, and his eyes were big and green. He wore an outfit that seemed to match Prince Charming's from the original Disney Cinderella, but no crown.

"If you say so," he grumbled in his low tone, arms neatly behind his back. He lifted his chin, and I felt myself being tested.

I blinked a couple of times in pondering, until I began to put two and two together. A flash of the Doctor passed through my mind.

[I]"Shift!"[/i]

"Shift...So, the reason I see this dungeon this way is because it's how I normally picture a dungeon?" Taking a second look, this was how I imagined dungeons looking like, ever since I'd first read Hans Christian Anderson's Swan Princess. 'Course, I'd been in at least two in my lifetime, and they hardly looked different from this one, except this was slightly more cramped. Well, I say slightly.

The man made his way over to me, and I was thankful that the bars separated us. I could only guess that this was the King in question, or at least a prince, and I'd been warned. Even without the information the Doctor'd given me, those weren't good intentions radiating from this man's muscular figure. As if to flaunt, he stuck his nose between the bars, careful not to ruin his sturdy cheekbones. "Sorry for your loss," he whispered cheekily.

He was certainly specific about things (sarcasm).

I wouldn't take the moment to entertain him with my tears. Instead, I made my voice as indignant, snarky, and demanding as it could get. "Speaking of my loss, where is he?"

Apparently, my approach worked to some degree. The royal had taken a step back, and something flashed behind his big green eyes. Was it just me, or did he look... pleased by my outburst? "Patience, now. They've been teleported to a funeral facility."

I wasted no time. "They've?"

"Yes. Your doctor and the other dead." He seemed to me very untouched by death, or at least the deaths of those he deemed commoners. This could mean one of two things - he'd poisoned the guests with the new liquid (this had been my judgement since the Doctor passed, but I've learned while traveling with the Doctor that things are not always as they seem, especially with those we deem the villains), or that he'd been blinded by war, and death now held little meaning...or it was a combination of the two.

"And why am I behind bars? I get I imagined a dungeon, or something, but why?"

The man shrugged. There was something very modern and chill (as some of my students back home would put it) about the action. This was a trait common to rulers who believed themselves superior to others, dictators. [I]Okay, not getting an answer for that question. So, move on to more important topics. [/i] "That ball you threw. It wasn't so you could find a bride, was it? You just invited members of the royal mining team to it, so you, or someone, could poison them. It was a trap. Why? Was it to conceal top secret information?"

He leaned against a wall, and just stared at me...dreamily. His gaze seemed to cut through me, through a certain part. Catching on, I folded my arms over my chest, and fixed him with a cold stare. "You will answer me."

"That...doctor of yours. He certainly was a keen fellow, wasn't he?"

He knew what he was doing, and I knew it too. I drew in a breath, and let it out. "Yes. Yes he was."

"I overheard the both of you." The man began to pace around intimidatingly. "He made some brilliant observations. Like how he found the Paige - knew he'd look typical because of the chamber's effect. Too bad he got thirsty. I could have made him a consultant."

I stormed at the bars, placing my fingers around them,projecting my voice so that it WOULD be heard. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?" It was getting to be a little too much for me to handle, if my trauma was to stay put in that corner of my mind. Some of it had to pour out. "And you WILL give me answers, because I am NOT letting the Doctor die in vain!"

"The Ruler. Just the Ruler, or your Majesty." He continued his pace of step, his gaze turned away from me. "Highness, if you'd rather."

[I]I already bloody guessed that![/i] For a moment, there was silence. In my head, it was noisy. Inquiries begged to pour out, but they were shot down. The way I saw it at the moment, there was no point of asking the Ruler anything, because he would only be vague. Again, I just wanted to cry, but I had to be strong. [I]Little by little. Climb your way up. [/i] "Will I get out of here? This dungeon, I mean. Or do I rot?"

"You're very keen, too."

[I]Maybe it'll help if I turn his words against him.[/i] "Meaning I do get out of here?" It went fast from there.

"If you're good. But, I've been watching you, Miss Clara Oswald. Ever since the ball started. In ways, you're cleverer than your doctor."

"Only socially."

"You have...had a certain aura of authority over him, I could sense it."

"And you wouldn't be the first."

"That aura. I guess that is what made me fall in love with you, in the first place."

I blinked. "Pardon?"

"I think you know what's coming up."

I thought for a moment. "You're going to propose to me?"

"What a wonderful idea, Miss Oswald!" He reached into his pocket, retrieving an engagement ring.

This man was impossible to deal with. Everything about him flared, "Wrong!" But, I decided to take it lightly, or as lightly as I could. [I]I[/i] had to take control, and this may have been the best place to do it, because I'd spotted a very specific "wrong." "You see that?" I laughed cynically in his face. "Cliché!"

He placed the ring back into his pocket. "Not very. Because I think you'd take it either way."

"English?"

He turned his back. There was a moment of silence again. I peered at him between the bars, waiting for the clarification. Finally, the Ruler spoke. "If you don't accept the proposal, I only have one alternative. To kill you." He looked back at me, a gleam in his eye. "I think I know how much you want that. Whether you believe in an afterlife or not, you want peace. Peace from all the death, the torment. Hmph. I see what you are, and I know how you got that way."

I felt I knew the answer, but still, I felt urged to ask. "How?"

"But I also know that you respect your doctor's will to find the true meaning of the liquid, what it is, what it does, why I used it to poison all my guests. No guarantee you'd get the information, but you'd have more access to it if you married me."

I let his words sink in, find their respectable meaning in my heart...because they hit home, they were true. And it hurt, but it helped me come to a startling decision. I opened my mouth.

"And one other thing," the Ruler continued, whilst pulling up what looked like a school chair, and sitting in it. "You have until sunset tomorrow to give me your answer."

Another cliché, a "wrong." "What if I already have it?"

"I want to see if I can change your mind."

I took a confident step back, placing my hands around my waist. Change my mind, eh? "Fair enough. I'd like to see you try." Oh, he was difficult, impossible, but I would prove better. I'm the impossible girl. Don't you remember?


	7. 6 - The Same Game

I'd often wondered how it would go if you put two control freaks like myself in the same room together. Especially a dark, cramped dungeon. I'll tell you this - the last thing you get is peace of mind.

"What funeral facility?" she'd press.  
"Tired?" I'd sneer.  
Then she'd play dry. "He's ikind of/i important to me."  
Then I'd play dry. "Not at the moment."

This kind of banter would go back and forth like a ball game, until she iwould/i eventually tire of questions, demands, stop flapping her gums and cease annoying me. It seemed to me she was beginning to realize was no way she could win, though normally people already assume that with me. No one challenges the king, especially prisoners.

Of course, this was no ordinary prisoner. She wasn't like the usual mudrats that usually poked around in dungeons, begging to be released. What she was offered, she took, and the only drink she asked for was anything to quench her knowledge. However, she was beginning to realize that her efforts would only further dehydrate herself. I would be exceedingly proud of myself if I wasn't so used to winning things.

Not only this, but she was beautiful, the way her skin radiated a dull glow in the moonlight. Her eyes like the stars, not only by the way they glittered, but by their size, how they seemed to take in everything. She possessed a petite frame, and her figure, from what little I could see... "Who are you?" my mouth subconsciously asked, in awe as my brain was.

"You've said it three times already," she pointed out from her place at the tiny window. She stood there, staring up at the stars, her eyes like moons reflecting everything, but longing for only one. "What time's it?"

I smirked, abandoning my chair to saunter over. "When I said, 'Who are you,' I didn't want a title. I wanted an actual description. You really aren't tasty, are you?"

The moons widened and blinked, and the head turned to fix their rays on me. A spark of amusement came to me at her reaction. "You know what I mean."

"I think I do, and I'm not liking it."

Ha! She was so scared! How could I refuse taking an intimidating step forward? She turned full-front, held her gloved hands up to raise caution. "Don't take another step forward...please."

It was too priceless! "Why? The bars are separating us!" She looked down at her shoes in embarrassment. I couldn't help myself. "Aww. Is it that human instinct kicking in?"

Her gaze shot upward, hot and cold on me."You have a key, I assume, yeah?" When she spoke now, it was a demand.

I did not fear, though. Another step forward. "Miss Oswald, the key is you."

Something about that made Clara relax. She let her arms fall back to her sides, but kept all her attention on me. "How do you mean?"

A chuckle rumbled in my throat, and I turned three-quarters to the window on my side. It was a larger window, one at eye-level and a wide view. Clara's was but an 8x3 inch hole in the wall, just enough to let air into the dingy cavern. All that could be seen was the stars, and for some odd reason, that seemed to be enough for Miss Oswald. "Can you feel it turning?" I asked mysteriously.

Now she was the one taking the step forward, ever closer to the bars. "What turning?" In an instant, I was there, and had the woman's left wrist seized tight. My glare bore down on her fearful moons. "What are you doing!?" The little hand twitched anxiously. "Let go!"

Once again, I ignored her plea. "The PLANET! The turning of the planet! CAN YOU FEEL IT!?" I squeezed tighter, and she let out a gasp as pain flashed in her eyes.

"I'm feeling something, mate, and it is inot/i the bloody planet!" But something else flashed in her eyes, and something inside me told me to look at her free hand. It was raising backwards in a target swing for my left cheek. Alarmed, I let go of her hand and backed away...and suddenly felt foolish. "Ha!" I pointed at her raised hand, but she just lifted a knowing, "you think I'm playing?" eyebrow. "You would have hit it against the bars! And anyway, it's gloved!"

She let her hand down, but she didn't look embarrassed. In fact, she looked very clever. "And yet you stopped." Once again, she caught on, folded her arms over her breast, and carried on. "Sometimes the key defense is to use an attacker's human iinstinct/i against them."

"Ah! But iI/i am not human!" I shot back. "Proper Victonian!"

She glared at me, and thumped her fingers on her arm. A moment of uneasy but decisive silence. "What year is it?"

That was odd. "Don't you know?"

"Just...tell me the year!" Impatience.

"3217. Why do you ask?"

The moons went dim and blank, and her arms dropped. A bit of a pace started up, Clara dragging herself along. "Wow. That's...further than I've actually been before..."

Who was this girl? "Who are you?" If I didn't know better, I'd say she was a...time traveler?

She seemed to snap back, the color returning to her face, but she still wasn't answering my question. "But why does this look like the 1700's?" She continued to pace, more figuratively now. "The royal part of it, anyway."

"YOU WILL ANSWER MY QUESTION!"

She ignored me. "Moreover, how are you all even alive? It's a dwarf planet. Shouldn't you have suffocated by now?" When she said it, it wasn't just a fact. It was a death threat, and as a coward, I slid back into my seat.

She was doing it. I don't know how...but she was actually controlling me, by playing my game. MY game, being vague. But I still had to play. "Answer for an answer. Who are you?"

"Sunset."

Impossible girl.


	8. 7 - Arrangements after Marriage(Death)

Traveling with the Doctor often meant that there would come times I'd meet face to face with death. In these times, whether it was by force or by will, I'd think of everything I was about to lose, everything that would happen because I'd die. I never had any close-knit friends, besides the Doctor, and so usually, my mind would go to him first, wondering how he'd feel in my demise. Normally what I thought depended on whether or not he forced me into the situation.

Next after the Doctor would come my students. I know I'm not their favorite teacher, but they'd surely wonder about my absence. In fact, the whole area would. My face would suddenly be up on every street post, and after a few months, everybody'd give up, assume I was dead, and return to normal life...hopefully after something of a grief/hope period. Would my family ever be the same? Both my mum and me dead?

These thoughts weren't meant to waver me away from making a sacrifice. In fact, they'd assure me that if I died, everything would be okay. The world would keep on rotating, the universe would keep being saved, and all I'd do is die.

Traveling with the Doctor also means that you'll have to see him come face to face with death. It's happened a lot, and normally the threat is evaded...except for now. The Doctor really is dead. He's gone, and I'm still not prepared, because I'd refuse to think about what would happen if he died. It was always too much, and normally I'd just deny that it would be the end of him.

And now it is. Now I'm thinking, in this tiny little cell. My best friend is dead. The most important person in the universe to me is dead. And in a way, I'm dead. I'm stuck on a dwarf planet, no telling when I'll get out. Earth thinks I'm dead, but I've got that squared away.

Then again, the Earth I knew is dead. All my students, my family, the friends I did have. They're all dead, and its their descendants that live today, if Earth is even still around. Which makes me theorize, as I glance over at the Ruler.

The universe is dead, doomed anyway. I imagine that if I am to stay in this cell, I'll see fewer stars in the sky, because the Doctor isn't here to save them. I don't know. That might be a metaphor. Surely the Doctor wasn't the only man who could.

"Sunset. By your standards."

My thoughts disappear at the Ruler's voice. It's been a long time, possibly 4-6 hours, since either of us have spoken. I should be tired, but I'm not. Too many depriving thoughts.

He gets up, and he saunters over. "So. Which is it?" He's less of a monarch, but all the more a menace. "Over the moon or 6 feet under?"

"Well, I can't say I'm really all that 'over the moon' about it, but..." my heart beat with fear, worry, but this was the only choice. "Yes. I will marry you, if that's what it takes."

His eyes widened, his face pale with a sort of shock. "Did you always think that?"

Unbearable, unbelievable. "Of course! What, you think I'd be so selfish as to have my life taken from me rather than to carry out the Doctor's will? You watched us the whole night, you said it yourself. Surely you already guessed."

"What I saw was that you two were in love. I pictured a Romeo and Juliet scenario."

"We weren't in love!" I snapped...and for some reason, it hurt. I _t's not important. He's playing with my mind_. "Either way, I accept your proposal, not out of love, but out of what has to be done."

The lock on the door magically clicked, and I just knew there was some explanation for it. I could almost here the Scottish voice right now.

"And out of selflessness?" the Ruler continued my thought, staring at me sidelong...and creepily.

What did it matter to him what my motives were? I'd made my decision, I knew my motives myself, so why did he find it so important to know? "Yes," I answered simply, though with a note of annoyed impatience. "Now," I placed a hand on the door and pushed, and it let out an awful noise, like a thousand wails...ghosts of prisoners past. Creepy. "When will it happen? The wedding, I mean?"

"There is a long process. Could take anywhere from a week to a good year."

I stepped out of the dungeon, shutting the door behind me. "I'd rather it be a little...a-s-a-p."

"I'm sorry, your highness to-be, but it really isn't up to you."

"Oh really? Who's it up to, then?"

"The entire planet. They need to decide if they want you or not."

Anger flashed through me, and I advanced towards him. "Hang on! You said it was MYNdecision, a bit ago. You've been saying that this whole day! And now you're telling me the decision I make doesn't matter?"

Although he could probably've taken me out right there with his brawn, the Ruler seemed to shrink back in fear. Mock fear, anyway. He lifted his hands over his head. "Patience, patience, my good queen -" (I didn't very much like that title) "-It iwas/i your decision. This is just the Electoral College portion."

I felt the fire burning in my eyes, my heart screaming. "That is NOT what you promised! You said NOTHING about the planet!"

I should have watched my distance. My human instinct should have been there THEN, because this was the Ruler's chance, his opportunity, his first and I prayed his last. For, my chin was pinched by two large, gloved fingers, and drawn up and forward a little. There was immense pressure shoved onto my lips, a puff of air blowing on my eyes to close them. I wanted to tear myself away, but he had an arm squeezed around me, cuffing my arms steadfast at my sides. There was nothing I could do except whimper in panic.

Finally, he pulled away, and I leapt backward from his dreamy, awestruck gaze. I drew up an arm and wiped my mouth in disgust, trying not to notice the tear that seeped into the fabric of my gloves _. Why? Why did he do that? Nothing like that has ever happened to me before, so why now_? I knew why, but I refused to believe it. I didn't want to believe it.

"Dictatorship," was all he said, watching me but not caring. "You were the one who said she was selfless."

I wanted to scream, "That's not what I meant! And you should know that!" but it wouldn't have worked, I knew. He'd probably turn those same words against me. Plus, I was too in shock to speak. _I just want to be home, or better yet, wake up. I can be anywhere, anywhere but here. Maybe I am._

"And anyways, you accepted the proposal." I just wanted him to shut up now. "See, to me, that is giving right to ownership."

Finally, I could speak. "Do you often kill what's yours?"

"No. But I certainly use it." He made for the door, which meant soon, I'd be safe. "Goodbye, Miss Oswald. The others will collect you. Right now, I must prepare a speech."

Others? What others? Whatever. It didn't matter. As the dungeon door slammed shut, I knew I was free for one moment, free to shed all the tears I wanted.

 _Why did he have to die?_


End file.
